15. Charlie
CHAPTER 15
Charlie
Swinging a sledgehammer has to be ranked somewhere in the top tier of therapy. You get to smash things with zero consequences. In fact, it’s considered a good thing when you’re renovating. All those pent-up frustrations? Swing ‘em out. Have unresolved issues with an ex-boyfriend? Pretend the wall is his car that you’re smashing.
I feel so much better now—almost like I worked through some of the anger Bryce left me with. And what makes me mad is that he doesn’t deserve my anger. It’s that I’m too much. He said I didn’t even try to conform to his expectations of me. Conform . Like I’m a piece of Play-Doh to shape however he wanted.
As my grandpa always told me, conformers never change the world. But dang, if it isn’t lonely trying to be a world-changer.
The wall is demolished and completely down to the studs. Max stands next to me, leaning on the hammer. “Not bad, Baxter.”
“Not bad yourself, St. James.” And maybe that’s the problem. He’s growing on me a little—like a bit of mold on cheese. It turns out that when we’re not fighting, being around him is easy.
“I’d stay around for the next tear down, but I need to feed again tonight.” He props the hammer against one of the exposed studs.
“Didn’t you already feed the cows this morning?” I ask as I bend down to retie my shoelaces.
Max shrugs. “I have to drive over to my family’s tomorrow. I’m having lunch with my parents. If I feed the cows tonight, I can get an early start in the morning and get back tomorrow night.”
“How about I help you tonight? Or feed in the morning for you?”
He studies me for a minute, and I expect him to turn me down, so it surprises me when he says, “I’ll take the help tonight.”
I grin as I shut off the lights in the living room. “See? You do like me.”
“Let’s not go too far,” Max replies dryly.
My coat hangs on the back of the kitchen bar stool, so I snatch it up as I walk around, shutting off the rest of the lights. “That’s all I can do tonight anyway. I have an order arriving in the morning with drywall and bathroom stuff. It’ll look more like a house again and less like a war zone in a couple of days.”
Max waits for me to step onto the porch, then closes and locks the door. He takes off down the porch, walking at a fast clip toward the barn in the dark. Dang it, I hate the winter sometimes.
I zip up my jacket and stomp after Max. His legs are forever long, and he’s walking through this snow like it’s no big deal.
“Having trouble keeping up, Christmas Elf?” He calls over his shoulder.
“Just taking the time to contemplate murder,” I huff out as I tromp through the snow.
He chuckles as if my threats entertain him.
We reach the barn that’s lit up like a beacon, and I try to race past him up the stairs to the hayloft. He starts running up the stairs after me. There’s something slightly heart-pounding about someone running after you. I glance over my shoulder, and Max is right behind me. I trip over my own feet when I hit the top of the stairs.
Max reaches out and catches me around my waist, pulling me back against him. “Be careful. What if you fell off the side?” He grumbles as he moves us away from the edge. I could have easily tumbled off.
“Thanks.” I rest a hand on his bicep and give it a moment of appreciation. Because there are muscles, and then there are muscles, and this man has them both.
“Do you want me to roll up my sleeve so you can feel it better?” He asks with an evil grin. He’s wearing a long-sleeved flannel shirt with a vest to keep him warm, making it easy to hold onto his arms.
I push out of his arms and hold up my arm. “I’d hate to embarrass you with mine, so no.”
“Hmmm, not sure that I’d be the one embarrassed…” He leans forward and wraps a hand around my arm, squeezing it through my puffy jacket. The gentle pressure of his fingers sends a tingle up my spine. “Yup, it’s a nice one.”
“Stop it. We’re getting weird.” My breath catches, and I point a finger at him. “No making it weird.”
“You’re the one who was petting my arm.”
“I was not petting it! I was stroking it.” I freeze. What am I even saying? Why can’t I keep a filter on my mouth? It takes too many detours on its own. “Okay, I’ll admit that didn’t make it sound any better.”
My face probably looks like a tomato at this point, so I turn around, slip off my coat, toss it onto the bales, and get to work carrying the bales to the edge of the hay loft and dropping them into the feed bunks below.
“When are you leaving for Christmas?” Max asks as he tosses a bale, making it look so easy. Yes, I can move them, but it probably looks like a fight for my life for anyone watching me.
“I probably won’t be completely finished by Christmas. I’m going to get everything livable and nice, but there is some work to be done in the laundry room, and one of the rooms upstairs has several holes in the drywall. It's almost like someone punched it over and over again. I told Magnolia I’m going to close up those rooms while they’re here and finish fixing them once they go home.”
“Why aren’t you going to Christmas with your family?”
“I did Christmas with them last year,” I tell him. “Besides, this year it’s at Aunt Lisa’s, and honestly, it’s been kinda weird without Grandpa. I know we’ll eventually settle into some kind of tradition…but it used to be that we would go out and spend time at Grandma and Grandpa’s ranch every Christmas. It was laid back, special. I don’t know. I don’t think Grandma will even go to Christmas this year. She’s floundering without him.”
It’s easier to say that Grandma is floundering without him when, in fact, it’s me. Grandpa always made me feel safe. I could talk to him and Grandma about anything in my life, and they never judged me or made me feel strange. They were the ones I called and spoke to about my high school troubles. As an adult, I’d simply drive to their place and stay the weekend.
“Why don’t you tell your grandma to come here?” Max asks, interrupting my reverie.
I freeze with my hands tucked under the bale strings, ready to lift. Grandma is all alone now. And if I’m not going to drive there to spend Christmas with everyone, why shouldn’t I bring her here? But it’s the fact that Max thought of it… and is the one suggesting it’s a possibility. “Really? You’d be okay with me bringing my Grandma here?”
“Sure,” Max grunts as he lifts a bale. “There’s that second bedroom in the bunkhouse. She wouldn’t have to climb any stairs or anything.”
“You’re serious,” I say in awe as I lift with my legs and shuffle-walk to the loft's edge to drop it into the feed bunk. Grandma would have no problem climbing stairs, but I think it’s rather sweet he thought of that possibility.
“Sure. I don’t know your grandma, but maybe she needs a change of scenery after losing your grandpa.”
“I—” I clear my throat. “Well, that sounds nice. I’ll call her.”
We work in silence, moving further down the bunk before I get up the courage to ask him, “So, are you going home for Christmas this year?”
I don’t know anything about his family. Is he an only child? The youngest of twelve?
“Nope.” He really expanded on that answer—a man of many words, that one.
“Nope? You can’t just leave me hanging like that.”
Max grunts as he picks up another bale. “My brother and his fiancée will be at my parents’ Christmas.”
“Yes, I can see why that would be terrible…” I say as I pause to stretch my back, locking my hands and reaching high in the air. “Why don’t you want to be around your brother and his fiancée?”
Max snorts. “I was dating her this summer.”
A back cramp hits at the exact moment he drops that juicy tidbit.
I bend down and grab my calves, trying to loosen up the back cramp. “When did they start dating?” I ask him.
“September,” he answers as he unzips his vest and tosses it onto the bales.
I sink down onto a bale, planting my elbows on my knees and resting my chin in my hands. “I have so very many questions.”
Max takes off his ball cap and runs a hand through his wavy hair. “Okay. A question for a question.”
“This feels like a trap, but I’ll bite. Why did you break up?” I stand up and reach my hands in the air as the cramp finally loosens.
“She didn’t feel like staying in a small town was right for her.” He folds his arms across his chest and leans against the support beam. “Why did your boyfriend break up with you?”
“I was too unconventional to introduce to his parents,” I say it as quickly as I can.
“Unconventional?” Max asks with a snort. “What the hell is unconventional about you?”
“My line of work.”
Max then calls Bryce a not-nice name, and I might just fall in love a little.
“My turn for a question.” I sit up straight and tap my fingers on my knees. “Where does your brother live?”
“Fort Rock.”
“Like, Fort Rock, Oregon?” I ask for clarification. I drove through there once. I almost blinked and missed it.
“The very same one.”
“What?” I can’t help the shriek. “There are three people that live there, and she broke up with you because of a small town?”
“Well, there’s definitely more than three, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
There’s a bitter taste in my mouth as I imagine someone abandoning Max—for his brother. Here I’ve been teasing him about his girlfriends, and by the tight look on Max’s face, this has been a hard breakup.
“I’ll fight her for you,” I offer with a tight smile.
His face relaxes into a soft grin. “You’d win.”
I snort. “Obviously.”
Max throws a few more bales down below and passes me a knife. “Want to cut the strings while I carry a fresh bale of straw to the calf?”
I salute him with the pocketknife. “Yes, sir, right away, sir.”
“You’d be terrible in the army,” he says with a chuckle.
“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” I shoot back.
“You talk back too much.” He grins. “It’s a good thing I don’t mind.”
I snatch my coat from the bales and hurry down the stairs. I need to get away before I say something else weird like, ‘Hey, you’re a catch, and your girlfriend is an idiot.’
Because if I said that—wouldn’t it mean I’ve been thinking it?